


The View Up Here

by cilceon



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:27:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24157348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cilceon/pseuds/cilceon
Summary: “You can go all the way to the top, it’s quite the view.”  Deacon hollered behind her as they entered Bunker Hill. Today he was a Minutemen ‘assigned to the General’s side by Preston’, a personal favorite disguise of his as of late. She, however was in an old brown flannel and jeans.“It’s really still open?” Wanderer stopped walking; Dog Meat did the same then cocked his head to the side in a silent question. “All the way up?”He hummed softly, “Mhm, all the way up.” He didn’t think it wise to remind her of the tower’s interior the first time they were officially here together, to see a certain old man in a black suit. And Deacon had noticed she hardly glanced at it, or at him, when she came through that first time with just Dog Meat a week prior to that, to exhausted he had noted. Got to sharpen that perception of hers. At that point, those glasses had been feet away from her several times. The dog new it too.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	The View Up Here

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ  
> hey there! i hated this story so i rewrote a better version with over 1k more words and a better closing! please check it out [Links Right Here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27320128)

“You can go all the way to the top, it’s quite the view.” Deacon hollered behind her as they entered Bunker Hill. Today he was a Minutemen ‘assigned to the General’s side by Preston’, a personal favorite disguise of his as of late. She, however was in an old brown flannel and jeans.

“It’s really still open?” Wanderer stopped walking; Dog Meat did the same then cocked his head to the side in a silent question. “All the way up?”

He hummed softly, “Mhm, all the way up.” He didn’t think it wise to remind her of the tower’s interior the first time they were officially here together, to see a certain old man in a black suit. And Deacon had noticed she hardly glanced at it, or at him, when she came through that first time with just Dog Meat a week prior to that, to exhausted he had noted. Got to sharpen that perception of hers. At that point, those glasses had been feet away from her several times. The dog new it too.

But now Deacon almost let an oh-I’m-so-proud-of-you smile slip when he thought of the way she had responded to Kessler’s classic raider or caravan greeting without a beat skipped. Announcing herself a trader with a voice that wasn’t her own. Wanderer had taken, for a brief moment, the roll of a caravan runner. He had put a mental bookmark on that page, to develop it more at a later date. A date he hoped that would be fast approaching. 

But it was when Cabot’s ‘ghoulcenary’ had approached Wanderer, practically right in front of him that he decided she needed to be more than just a Tourist. Though she knew the Commonwealth well enough for that job. He had stopped her from heading to the bunkhouse, to Tony and the conversation Deacon might’ve suggested that he have with his father if he saw a woman with a dog go near them. Poor old pops didn’t know that his boy was already one of them. Deegan shot out his boss’ proposition to her. Stated that it would be dangerous, but the pay would be worth whatever it was. Wanderer looked him square in the eye with a hand on her hip. Her body language had screamed ‘are you serious right now?’ “Sorry, I don’t ‘take’ jobs cause they’re dangerous or for money.” She had continued waking now but quipped over her shoulder, “I help people ‘cause they need help. Simple as that.” Beliefs, caps, or ego: and he finally had one solidified on her. The only one of the three types he’d ever let down to HQ. 

“Dog Meat why don’t you stay down here, okay?” Wanderer smiled towards the top of the pillar. A look of curiosity driven determination on her face. “Dee, you don’t gotta come with me but I…” She trailed off, worried.

Ah, right, she still didn’t trust him completely. Calling him Dee was a nice sign he was steering her that way though. Deacon might’ve been by her side even before that vault door screeched open. Had picked off baddies. Had cleared most routs she would take, never enough to raise an eyebrow, well except for that time a feral almost ripped her head off before she could so much as turn around. Oh, he took that shot and it turned out fine. Wanderer didn’t know it was him and she still had an intact face to boot. No damage done.

Deacon was excited, hell giddy, about seeing how long it’d take him before she was comfortable around her like she was with Cogsworth, Preston, Sturges, or Nick. He’d be damned if he let Piper get there before him.

“And miss out on the awe and wonder in your eyes when you see the view?’ he gestured upwards. Not a chance, Boss” The previous look of determination returned to her face as she turned from him and began to climb the staircase, Deacon close behind. “We’ll probably get up to the top in time to see the sunset.”

“Oh gosh, you think so?” She sounded like what he imagined a kid would sound like when the were given free range of a candy store. “I bet its gonna look so pretty with the water.” She was out of breath now and they weren’t even halfway up yet. Got to find a way to get her endurance up, if things turn bad on an op and she had to run… “I really wanna see that sunset.”

‘Gotta, gonna, wanna’ Deacon learned in the first few weeks of watching her that when she started mashing words together like that instead of speaking, as Carington would put it, like a person with an education, as someone with a… degree. An actual real-life degree in something.

Not the point, the point was that speech pattern, which most post-war folks had, was only with her when she was spilling out genuine emotion. When Wanderer wasn’t thinking about every word she was going to say next. Another bookmark: get her to be aware of that when she’s getting Intel. Most people in the wealth weren’t nearly as good as him, but there were a few dangerous ones that could swing in the same park. And it’d raise alarms if they could tell if she was playing an angle.

Every time they passed one of the holes in the wall Wanderer would glance out in anticipation, Deacon on the other hand was trying awfully hard to do anything but that. When they were still on the ground, he thought the monument wasn’t that high, but with every crack and hole, they got higher and his stomach dropped lower. He really needed to get over the heights thing. Deacon turned his focus to the heels of the woman in front of him. 

She had on her pair of deep red high-tops, maybe they were once black, and radiation had its way with them. He couldn’t tell, next time there needed to be a conversation topic change he’d ask her about it. Deacon noted that they weren’t laced all the way up, instead she had wrapped the laces around each ankle then brought them to the front like one would an old-world apron, in bows he didn’t quite recognize the knotting of. A normal person would think she did that to keep the laces from being too long and out of the mud. But if that were the case why not just cut them shorter? But he knew better, had seen old photos of kids and young adults wearing shoes like those the same way she was. It was a semblance of normalcy for her. 

Deacon remembered how Cogsworth had proudly exclaimed to her that he was able to fend off scavers from them and most of the contents of her old home. He remembered the way she held those shoes, like they were the most important thing in the world. Yeah, definitely asking about those at some point. 

“Oh.” Wanderer breathed, stopping so abruptly he almost ran her over. They had reached the top. She clutched her heart as she looked over Boston. Sure enough the sun had worked its nightly magic and cast a warm orange glow on the landscape. Every reflective surface was shimmering, the river predominantly but also the shattered windows of buildings and cars alike. Glass shards and unrusted metal lined the maze of streets and reflected the sun like bits of a giant flat disco ball.

Wanderer shuttered as her shoulders tightened, her hands not moving from their place at her chest. All the excitement and joy she had moments ago was gone. She was still, eyes darting around the rubble below them. She didn’t think it was beautiful, did she? He was studying the back of her now, trying to get a read in the emotion. Anger? Frustration? No. Wanderer would be clenching and unclenching her hands, running them through her hair, if that were it. Disbelief? Shock? Nada, those two often let her breathing quicken, not slow down like…this. 

He shifted ever so slightly to see her face clearer. Wanderer’s jaw was clenched, eyes slowing their search now. She blinked, and a tear betrayed her. She let it slide down her face. Greif. She was grieving.

Not good. 

Finally, she let one hand move and rest upon the side of the window. She stepped closer to the sill. 

“Everything’s so,” She whispered, “Quiet.” Her voice was shaking, another tear fell. “So…still. I’ve never seen it still. Titletown’s never still, never quiet.”

Titletown? Another conversation piece, he supposed. Deacon moved to lean against the side of the window opposite her, careful not to look down.

She pointed to one of the collapsed skyscrapers as she spoke. “I lived there for a few years; it was an apartment building. While I was at school and he was away.” He. Wanderer didn’t need to add the name. Deacon knew who he was. The hand still on her chest tightened. “It was a nice little place. Lonely, but nice. Most of my floor were university and grad school kids, a lot of them were good people.” She pointed to another structure. “That was the old mall before it got run into the ground and turned into a giant office complex, a shame really. Over there is was a penthouse for some of hotshot upper class socialites. Oh…ah its Ticon now.” Wanderer kept going like that as the sunset turned the rains over to the night. Gesturing towards a place then describing it, listing things she remembered from them. He watched her all the while, noting the look of fondness at one location, distain at another. 

The sun was completely gone now, all that was left were the stars, scattered camp firelights, and the glow from Goodneighbor and Diamond City. A single bark sounded below them, one that said It’s been a while and I’m worried and/or hungry.

“I hadn’t realized we’ve been up here so long.” She said sheepishly, “Sorry for all the rambling.”

“Don’t sweat it, Boss.” Deacon meant it. He moved the opposite way from the window and extended his hand toward the stairs. Wanderer took the cue and began the trek down to ground level. “With the sundown we can go bother Stockton.”

She let out a content hum as she bounced down the steps. The woman she showed most people was returning with each footstep. “So, you brought me up her to kill time, is that it?”

“You catch on fast.” He was watching her shoes again. The light might be gone but the reminders in the walls about their current elevation were still there. Killing time was a nice bonus, but he learned a lot about her in the last hour.

When Dog Meat saw Wanderer, he let out a happy woof.

Kneeling she scratched the underside of his chin as she commended him on his watchdog abilities. With a pat on Dog Meat’s back she stood up. “Thanks for waiting, boy.” He yipped playfully in response as he turned and walked inside the center of town, leading the way for the three of them. Before she took a step however, she looked at Deacon. “And thank you for reminding me of the view.”

“I aim to please ma’am.” Minutemen Deacon said with a tip of his hat towards the General. 

She smiled with a nod as she turned towards her furry companion, realizing that he was back in character. She did catch on fast, after all.


End file.
